Mentalist Episode Tag: Black-Winged Red Bird, 6x2
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Inside Jane's thoughts in the hospital. Spoilers 6x1, 6x2. Rated T for mild language


A/N: I know all of us shippers were disappointed there wasn't at least a hug at Jane and Lisbon's reunion, but you could certainly see the fear and gravity in Jane's expression. I've never seen a guy get a water bottle so quickly, lol. And the tenderness and reverence with which he washed her face of the blood—heartbreaking. So, this tag is, without rewriting what actually happened, what I think happened in Jane's mind. It is the first time I've written an extended piece for "The Mentalist" in first-person, but for some reason, it felt right. I hope you like it.

**Episode Tag: Black-Winged Red Bird, 6x2**

I can hold your hand if I want to, and you won't know.

Lay my head on your chest every five minutes to reassure myself you're still with me—I've never trusted those damn hospital machines completely.

At first, when they found you, your hands were cold. Shock, they'd said. I think mine was worse. But now yours are warm and blessedly alive, but I'm still frozen inside.

Dammit, Lisbon. Why the hell did you go in that house by yourself? How could you have been so stupid? You must have known Partridge was in there, and he was one of the seven, for crying out loud. I told you so. I told you so.

That's what I want to say to you, and so I do, because you won't know.

Throughout the night I stay with you, because the bastard might come back to finish the job. Anyone left on that damn list could get in this room, no problem. The nurses try to kick me out, to get me to go to the waiting room. But I'm not going anywhere. Nurses have never liked me much-I'm a bad visitor as well as a patient, apparently.

At about two in the morning, I wake up from a nightmare I can't remember, having fallen asleep with your hand in mine and my head awkwardly on the bed beside you. My shaking hand goes immediately to your cheek, and I still think I can see the blood there, although one of the nurses had cleaned you up pretty well after my sad attempts in the ambulance.

My shock must have worn off a little, because I can feel the tears now, and I can't seem to stop them. So I don't. You won't know anyway, and besides, it feels good to finally let it out. I kiss your cheek, lingering longer than I should, because I can do this without having to explain what it means. The feel of your warm, soft skin beneath my lips is more amazing than I had imagined, and if I weren't recovering from the shock of your near-death, it would be almost…sensual.

You stir in your sleep. You seem restless. Well, that makes two of us, though I'm more exhausted than I've ever felt in my life. I sit back in the chair, but don't release your hand. You turn your head to the side and I will you to open your eyes and look at me. I haven't seen their sage green brightness since they were snapping at me when we argued in the diner, and it hits home once more that, but for the mercy of Red John, I might not have ever seen them again. I decide I will never say I told you so. Besides, I think you already knew I was right the moment you saw Partridge's mutilated body.

You're having a dream now, and I can easily imagine what it's about. You're replaying the horror of the night in your mind, extrapolating even more horrors to come. I know what that's like, believe me. Seeing the blood on your face had come straight out of one of my own nightmares.

This is all my fault, all of it. I should never have told you my suspicions, should never have shown you The List. _I_ did this to you, almost as surely as Red John painted that macabre clown on your lovely face. But we'd come to trust one another, you and I, even though we're obviously still capable of withholding pertinent details. I actually wanted to share with you, despite the risk, because you're my best friend, and, at times, my _only_ friend. You almost paid for my mistakes, but you can't unring a bell, so there it is.

And here we are.

It's then you awaken, and look around, still in your dream a moment before you focus on me. I squeeze your hand one last time and release it. The relief at seeing your eyes almost overwhelms me, even though you are disoriented and, for a brief moment, back in that dilapidated house. My throat feels clogged and full of residual tears, and I feast on your face and your wild eyes, and almost blurt out something neither of us is ready to hear.

Instead, I say:

"It's all right. You're safe."

And for now, that's enough.

**A/N: So, sorry I was absent from writing a tag for 6x1. Two reasons for that: 1)I was pretty depressed that my theory about Partridge was wrong, so I felt a bit out of sorts, and 2) I wanted to see what actually happened after the cliffhanger, because I knew whatever I speculated would be moot after 6x2, so that's my explanation.**

**Back to the drawing board on RJ theories though. If you follow me on Twitter, you know I've toyed around with the seven-headed dragon idea. Now, I still have that theory, though with a twist—I think 6 of the suspects are actually helping Jane, or rather, trying to nail RJ themselves. Maybe "Tyger Tyger" is actually a code for telling they are part of this group. Todd Johnson could be one too. Didn't he say something about things being bigger than Jane thinks? The meeting of the three in this episode felt sort of like that. I'll go with my number 2 guess, of Haffner being Red John. But I won't be so surprised this time if I'm wrong.**


End file.
